


Virus

by HannahLydia



Series: Kinktober '18 [6]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: AI Jack, Angst and Porn, Asphyxiation, Atlas CEO Rhys, Badwrong, Choking, Cruelty, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Masturbation, Fucked Up, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Masochism, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Porn With Plot, Possession, Post-Canon, Sadism, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-25 15:23:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16200296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahLydia/pseuds/HannahLydia
Summary: “J-Jack--” He breathed, realising, distantly, that his head was shaking. “Jack, what have you--?”What have you done?More importantly, what hadhedone? He’d brought a homicidal maniac back into the world, on little more than a longing whim, and he had the tenacity to be shocked at a sight like this?A projector on the far side of the room began whirring, coming to life. Within seconds Jack’s hologram appeared, an elbow ‘propped’ on one of the mechanical limbs that branched out from the workbench. His smile seemed amiable enough, but the narrowed slits of his eyes said otherwise. “Do you have any idea how freakin’ badly I’ve been hoping to see that pretty face o’ yours again, Rhysie? You kept me waitin’, buddy. Ihaaatewaitin’,”AKA: When Rhys' team of scientists fail to transfer Jack's AI from one ECHOeye to another, Rhys is left to deal with the fall-out.(Tenuous plot, and all shades of fucked-up. Written for the 'sadism/masochism' prompt for day five of Kinktober '18.)





	Virus

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for posting this up sooo late! I was travelling back from Mexico and wasn't able to do it until I was back home, I'd handwritten it throughout the flight. Unfortunately it means I've missed out on day six's prompt, which I was looking forward to. T_T  
> This is pretty damn dark and turned out so much longer than I expected, so fORGIVE ME AND PLEASE ENJOY~

The call came a little after 2am. It pierced straight through the veil of sleep, and Rhys shook violently awake - barely able to work out where or _when_ he was. For a moment he half-imagined he was back on Helios, in the modest, windowless two-bed he’d shared with Vaughn. Then the fog of uncertainty eased and he anchored himself back in the present. No, this was Old Haven, specifically the Gortys Project site and his partly-remodelled apartment within it. Right now it felt more like an office than a home (no thanks to his rude-awakening phone call) but he was making do with what he had.

He must have dozed off, propped up in bed while working. All of the lights in the room were still on, but at least it made it easier to locate the ECHO communicator. It was ringing on and on with its custom dial tone. He’d started redirecting calls from his built-in cybernetics to a static communicator, at least in the evenings when he didn’t want to bring _all_ the work home. It helped him ignore incoming calls if he so chose to. This one, however? Rhys wasn’t about to ignore it. You didn’t call in the early hours of the morning if it wasn’t serious. It felt monumental, unavoidable.  
Luckily he didn’t have to move far from his position on the bed; he reached over and accepted the incoming comms with a push of a finger.

“G’morning…” He mumbled good-naturedly, his voice thick with sleep. Maybe he should have sounded more concerned or more alert, but he preferred to remain optimistic. It wasn’t out of the realms of possibility that Gortys had figured out how to reach him at last and was testing the line. Except it wasn’t Gortys, or any of his friends for that matter.  
“S-Sir?” The voice was panicked, and Rhys recognised the girl instantly. Thanks to Athena, the ranks of Atlas had been obliterated. Now they were such a small company (on Pandora at least) that he had no excuse _not_ to know most of his employees. After all, they were mostly new recruits that he had handpicked or hired himself, just like this girl. She was an intern for R&D, hired only recently with an impressive resume for someone who had never worked for a large manufacturing company before. Of all the people to call through at this hour, someone from the development wing would have been right at the bottom of his list. Christ, she was just a graduate - what business did his specialists have in keeping her this late?

“Sir, I’m so, _so_ sorry for the late hour, it’s just--”  
“Hey, no no, it’s fine. I was awake,” Rhys soothed automatically. He was not the big, bad CEO that Handsome Jack had been. He liked to think he was calm, personable. A friend first and a boss second. The girl needn’t know she’d woken him up, and besides - when he looked down he could see he’d fallen asleep writing his speech for his very first trade meeting. It was probably best that he _had_ been woken. He was still fully dressed, boots and all, and his scribbled speech notes were scattered over the bed like love letters or partly-conjured song lyrics. His neck was also stiff from where he’d crashed against the headboard; mid-sentence judging by the line that trailed down the nearest note page.

Scrubbing eyes that were heavy with fatigue, Rhys tried to recall the girl’s name. Wasn’t she named after a gem or a colour of some kind? Amber? No… No, it wasn't that. He remembered it began with--  
\-- it began with a   _J._

 _“_ Hey, uh-- Jade?” _Nailed it._ “Is there a problem down there?”

From the way she sucked in a breath, she didn’t sound overly-thrilled or relieved that he had recalled her name, as if she expected to be held personally responsible for whatever news she was about to dispense. The girl hesitated. “Ah… you could say that, sir, yes. It’s-- well it’s bad news, I’m afraid,”

 _Way ahead of you,_ Rhys thought, already trying to work out what could have possibly gone so horrifically wrong that it couldn’t wait until morning. Had they been infiltrated? Hacked? Had someone dropped their latte on the central power core?  
All manner of possibilities occurred to him. All except the real problem at hand.

Jade inhaled sharply. It sounded as if she were preparing to inform him of a fatal diagnosis. “Sir, it’s…” She paused, treading carefully. “It’s actually about your ECHOeye,”

Rhys choked on the very air he was breathing. He sat bolt upright in bed, his caught breath lodging painfully in his throat.   
His ECHOeye?  
Oh crap… oh hell…  
He flinched so suddenly, as if someone had just walked across his grave. Unable to fathom what response she might give, Rhys dreaded what was to come.  
He had majorly screwed up here, hadn’t he? Whatever might have transpired was going to be entirely his fault, he could already sense it deep in his bones.

Uncomfortable with his silence, Jade’s voice was tense, uneven. “S-Sir?”  
“I’m here,” Rhys said. He no longer sounded quite so approachable. Closing his eyes, he miserably ran his flesh hand over his face and began kneading the pad of his thumb against his temple. “What about the eye?”

There was a shaky breath. Jade cleared her throat. “The… The project lead asked me to call through and tell you that there’s been some kind of... critical failure,”

Those last two words packed a punch. It seemed as if they could only be delivered in all-capitals, all emphasis.  
**_CRITICAL. FAILURE._**  
Rhys was sure he was about to pitch forwards and empty the contents of his stomach right then and there into his lap.  
“What--” His voice sounded strangled even to his own ears. “What _kind_ of failure?”

 _Jack’s on the loose,_ he thought suddenly. He was so certain of it that he just wanted the bed to swallow him whole. His conscience began to berate him, frustrated at the irrational part of him that had set these wheels in motion. Because of course that’s what this was all about, wasn’t it? _Jack’s on the loose again and it’s all your fault. They’re calling because they’re terrified, because you asked them to bring back a maniac, because they don’t even know how to contain him...!_

“The, um-” Jade stole yet another breath, registering the stress in Rhys’ voice. “-the line of code you wanted recovered from your old hardware? Your ‘subsystems access’? It’s... It’s gone,”

Of all things, Rhys had not been expecting that. It felt as if his heart had calcified and dropped into the pit of his stomach like a stone. Staring dead ahead at the wall opposite him, he registered only one word. ‘ _Gone.’_ It danced around in his head, mocking, howling.  
He hadn’t told anyone that the top-grade hacking AI he wanted recovered was none other than Handsome Jack. _Should’ve_ done, but didn’t. Rumours circulated, of course - he had some defected Hyperion scientists on the payroll now - but he hadn’t confirmed one way or another.  
The goal had been to recover Jack, transfer him to his new ECHOeye and adjust his code somehow. Muzzle him. Add some kind of law or restriction where he couldn’t harm a fly even if he _wanted_ to.  
Of course there was no logical reason why he needed _Jack_ as opposed to some other, less homicidal AI; Rhys had just acted on instinct. On his feelings.

He knew he should have been relieved that this was the news he was receiving, but he wasn’t. Far from it. To hear that Jack was ‘gone’ was like taking a knife to the chest. It reminded him just how much he missed him. How much he craved him. A drug he hadn't recovered from taking. 

“What do you mean ‘gone’? Gone _where_ ?” He asked, trying his best to sound-level headed. He failed spectacularly.  
When Jade spoke next, she let it all out without barely taking a breath. “We had a freak power failure down here. Generator cut out for just an instant, and when we came back online the hardware was unresponsive. I-It’s like it shorted out in the power surge, sir. I’m-- I’m really sorry. We ran some diagnostics but there was nothing left to recover,”

Rhys’ eyes were stinging, burning. He reached out to steady himself, moving blindly, and knocked a mass of paperwork off his night-stand onto the floor.

 _Gone._  
_Unresponsive._  
_Nothing left to recover._

So that was it then? No more-- No more Jack.

God, he was shaking. For a fraction of a minute the room felt as if it were spinning around him.

Old Haven was a mass of generators and power lines; everything was hooked up to different grids. The GP labs had their own power supply, their own network. The understanding was that if the rest of the facility was compromised, then R&D could be isolated and could continue working despite a breech. So then what exactly had tripped the power? Was it an inside job? Had the project lead worked out what he was dealing with and tried to cut it dead?

In light of Rhys’ continued silence, Jade carried on at speed, trying to fill the void with _anything_ that could console him. “Sir, Harrison said that he can build you a new AI from scratch, sir. H-He has experience with military-grade robotics and programming, he can--”  
“No,” Rhys interrupted her, burying his face in his palm. He began rubbing his closed eyelids aggressively.  
A new AI? And what exactly was he supposed to do with that? He didn’t _want_ any old AI, damn it, he wanted…  _Jack._

Fucking Harrison. He began to suspect more and more that this was sabotage. Not only that, but the supposedly big-shot scientist had forced Jade to deal with this, keeping her back at this time of night to take the fall for him. That was the kind of cowardly, dogsbody bullshit Henderson once put him through. God, he would have to have some _serious_ words with the whole division after this.

“Where _is_ Harrison, Jade?” Rhys asked irritably, miserably. “And _why_ is he forcing you to deliver his bad news for him?”  
_Maybe because he thought you’d swallow it easier coming from a pretty girl your own age. Maybe because Harrison’s playing some twisted game of matchmaking off the back of his own failure..._

Almost instantly Jade gasped, rallying to her immediate manager’s defence. “O-Oh, it’s not like that, sir! It’s just… well, he’s-- a little tied up in Lab Eight. We, uh, we actually have another problem down here, sir,”

If Rhys could have cried, he would have done, but he was a CEO now and he couldn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve as easily as he used to. Instead, all pretence of him wanting to be seen as the good-guy, the easy-going boss, evaporated in an instant. His chest was aching so badly he thought he might have an attack of some kind. To lose Jack and now _this -_ whatever ‘this’ was - all in one evening was just too much.  
“Terrific,” He said coldly, heavy with cynicism. Rhys didn’t know it, but in that moment he sounded _exactly_ like Jack. His tone could have instilled fear in even the hardiest employee. “Just-- terrific. What ‘problem’?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Jade inhaled and then exhaled heavily, fearfully, breathing clouds of static into the communicator.  
“The lab,” She said finally. “It’s been _screwy_ since the power came back on,”

 _Great_. This was exactly what they didn't need. Atlas wasn’t even turning a profit yet and they were facing a dysfunctional lab that might need ripping out? At the very least it’d be one heavy mechanic’s bill.  
Gathering up his pile of speech notes, Rhys found himself snapping in the direction of the receiver. “In what way exactly?”  
“Just slow to respond or sporadic. Some of the machinery won’t even operate. There seems to be some sort of... virus in the system?”

Rhys froze in the middle of his attempts to clear the bed, pupils blown wide open.  
“... What did you just say?” He heard himself mutter, even though he had already heard her loud and clear. He was staring dumbly into the middle-distance, the cogs of his mind slowly turning.

“A-- virus in the system?" Jade repeated dutifully.

The penny dropped.

In his mind’s eye, Rhys saw his development team working late, trying to solve the puzzle of his ECHOeye. Maybe they were trying to finish it in record time to impress him, but they were rushing, cutting corners. He imagined them running tests on his old eye, the one he had cut out of himself and pocketed, holding onto out of some twisted sentimentality.  
He pictured them making rash decisions - not armed with the knowledge that they were dealing with something potentially very dangerous. They hadn’t isolated the eye, they’d just expected it to be dormant and plugged it straight into the Atlas systems.

A virus.

 _Jack_.

Rhys was sitting on the edge of his bed now, grinding the heel of his palm against his face. He breathed evenly for a moment, unsure if the knot in his stomach was due to relief or crippling fear. Maybe somehow it was a weird mix of both.

“Jade?” He prompted eventually, rising to his feet. “I... think I’d better come down there,”

He didn’t know what he’d find there when he did, but this was _his_ mess. If his team had somehow compromised the entire facility because he'd been too afraid to admit that he had missed _Handsome Jack_ , of all people, then the blame rested exclusively on his shoulders.  
The final remnants of a tyrannical megalomaniac could have been crushed in his palm months ago, and maybe that’s exactly what he should have done.

On the other end of the call, Jade breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s what we were hoping for, sir. Honestly? It’s getting kind of spooky down here…”

 

* * *

 

It had been a good thing Rhys had been fully-dressed. He made it down to R&D in less than fifteen minutes, a tremor in both of his hands now. He felt as if he were wading through strong currents, or towards an opposing magnet that was trying its best to repel him. Everything was telling him to keep away, to rethink his decision to be the hero and check things out for himself, but Jack was his burden to bear, not anyone else’s.

Jade was waiting for him at a set of sealed doors, her hands in the pockets of her lab-coat. By all accounts she was a pretty girl, she had already been turning heads here. Her skin-tone was the same as Sasha’s except for a smattering of freckles, and she had subtly wavy hair that she kept in a professional up-do. If Rhys had a type (which he didn’t) she’d have probably been it, but as her boss and as someone who was stupidly, irrevocably caught up on a _hologram_ of all things, he wasn’t the slightest bit interested.

“Where’s Harrison?” Rhys asked her as he approached. No small talk; it was too urgent for that.

The girl hooked a thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of the corridor they could see through the new tempered glass panels set into the doors. “Testing the equipment. Right this way,” She said, sounding much more sure of herself now that she could speak to him face to face.  
Jade turned and swiped her access card through the wall-mounted reader, opening up the doors that Rhys had once walked through with the Gortys core in-hand. Where DEFENSE DIVISION was stencilled, DESIGN AND DEVELOPMENT had also recently been added.

The hallway forked; to the right was the Assembly Room they had used to put Gortys together, and to the left, a currently sealed dead-end. They moved down the amber-lit walkway, footsteps clicking across metal grates and tiles, walking at speed.  
Lab 08 was opposite the Assembly Room, marked with yet more bold stencils. When they reached the doorway, Jade tugged on the access card on her lanyard once more, but Rhys caught her hand before she could scan it through the reader.

“Hey,” He interrupted her, holding her gaze. “You don’t need to stay for this part. You’ve-- You’ve been here long enough already,”  
“But sir, I--”  
“I’m _insisting_. Please. Let me deal with this?”

Her kaleidoscopic eyes regarded him for a moment, pupils subtly shifting. Then, realising how serious he was on the matter, she dropped her lanyard and managed a slight nod. “U-Understood,” She said, cheeks flushing with colour. Taking a step back, she paused to look at him, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “Listen, I'm... I’m really sorry about your eye, sir,”

“Jade?”  
“Yes?”  
“Call me Rhys,”

Before the girl even had a chance to smile back at him, the heavy metal doors opened of their own accord.

Jade actually jumped. Her gaze instantly shot to the access scanner, but it was still displaying a steady red light. A no-go zone, or should have been. Nervous laughter escaped from her as she gestured towards the open doors. “... S-See what I mean? Spooky,”

‘Spooky’ wasn’t the word. It was an invitation.

Rhys nodded. He thought he responded, agreed with her, but he was so focused on the empty corridor that loomed ahead of him that he had stopped paying her much mind until he began to move. He became conscious of how she backed up to watch him enter the lab. It was a curious feeling, like he was a doomed man and she was following his progress towards the gallows. He half-imagined that a handkerchief would come out, and she’d start waving it at his retreating back.

Straightening up to his full-height and raising his chin, Rhys took a steadying breath. As soon as he was through, the doors slid to an immediate close behind him, sealing him off from the rest of his facility. 

“Harrison?” He called out.

The walkway went on for a few more feet before turning right into the lab area. He knew there was another set of doors waiting there but most of the time these remained open for scientists to come and go between their bank of lockers out here. They weren't performing brain surgery; the area was well-maintained and well-ventilated, so there was little concern for cross-contamination on your every-day projects.

“ _Harrison?_ ” Rhys tried again. Gravity weighed him down until his pace was sluggish, weary.

An answer finally came in the form of an echo from the main room. A demonic echo, if he was being honest with himself. It sounded like a recording being played backwards in slow-motion. It took Rhys a moment to register the sound as a laugh. It took him a further moment to realise it was the same distorted laugh he had once heard coming from the wreckage of Helios.

 _Jack_ …

A relieved part of him inwardly sighed, aching. Another part, one ruled by logic and sense said: _run_.

When he turned the corner, he found that the lab was empty at first glance. A static security camera mounted high in the corner made a mechanical whirring noise as it zoomed in on him, tracking his movement.  

Not only was the lab empty, but it was mostly neat too. The sideboards were all arranged as they were at the beginning and end of every day, where there was a place for everything and everything had its place. A file was sitting open on one work surface, but it was nothing more than the request for this procedure and a few half-truths about the contents that needed recovering.  
The only signs that there had been anyone here at all was…  
… the wheeled trolley that was overturned on the floor, partially obstructed by the workbench and a metal, high-backed chair. The workbench housed two large mechanical arms, both as thick as tree branches and just as unforgiving. They were all-steel, sticking out in ‘r’ formations like miniature cranes. One ended with two clawed ‘fingers’ and a ‘thumb’, the other with a laser intended for precision work. With the chair beside them, it looked like the kind of layout you’d expect from a dental surgery. It was where Rhys had been due to sit had the alterations to his ECHOeye been successful.

There was a sign of a struggle over there - some small utensils on the floor, the wheels still spinning on the tipped-over cart. And the chair? The chair had its back to him.  
_Harrison,_  Rhys thought grimly, and began to approach it with dread.  
_I’m that one guy in every horror movie. There’s always that one idiot, the one who goes on ahead even though you’re screaming at him not to. The one who’s going to get himself_ **_killed_ ** _because he’s too stupid to realise he’s in too deep…_

Now that he was closer and at a slightly different angle, he could see that there was an arm resting on the armrest. A white sleeve. A lab-coat sleeve.  
_Oh Christ…  
_ He spun the chair quickly, before he could change his mind.

Sure enough, Harrison was slumped within it, slack like a rag-doll. His eyes were clouded white with blindness, a look of sheer terror permanently etched into his face. There was no blood, but only because the wound had cauterised on impact. _‘WHERE’S RHYS’_ had been lasered into the flesh, snaking diagonally from his cheekbone to his hairline, jaw to brow. It carved across his eyes, the nose, the mouth. The effect it had was gruesome, macabre, puckering the skin and twisting the features. He looked like a rendition of Munch’s The Scream.

Rhys staggered backwards, his mouth working open to yell, but no sound came out. He knocked over a second trolley, the crash horrifically loud behind him as his arms pin-wheeled, struggling to maintain his balance.   
The speaker system on the wall let out a hiss of white-noise, followed by the same backwards-sounding laugh. “Well _ther-er-ere’s_ a sight for sore eyes...” A familiar voice crooned, glitching midway through.

There was no relief now, only a palpable surge of regret and horror. Rhys couldn't seem to remove his eyes from Harrison’s very-dead and very-disfigured body. “J-Jack--” He breathed, realising, distantly, that his head was shaking. His testicles had shrunk in fear, hugging tight to his body as gooseflesh broke out across his arms. “Jack, what have you--?” _What have you done?  
_ More importantly, what had _he_ done? He’d brought a homicidal maniac back into the world, on little more than a longing whim, and he had the tenacity to be _shocked_ at a sight like this?

A projector on the far side of the room began whirring, coming to life. Within seconds Jack’s hologram appeared, an elbow ‘propped’ on one of the mechanical limbs that branched out from the workbench. His smile seemed amiable enough, but the narrowed slits of his eyes said otherwise. He seemed to suck in a breath like a hiss (not that he needed air) and began shaking his head back at Rhys. “Do you have _any_ idea how freakin’ badly I’ve been hoping to see that pretty face o’ yours again, Rhysie? You kept me waitin’, buddy. I _haaate_ waitin’,”

_Click._

_Clk clk clk clk clk…_

Rhys’ gaze swung to and fro, tracing the letter ‘z’ with his eyes. One minute he was looking at Harrison, the next at Jack, then down to the track that was set into the floor and then back to the chair itself. The chair was mounted _on_ the track, as if it were some kind of joyride. Its suspension wheezed suddenly as it thrust upwards into the air, then rushed forwards along the track like a slingshot, at such maddening speed that Harrison was forcibly ejected at the other end of the room. He flew through the air, landing at the foot of the lockers beyond the doors that slid to a close behind him.

At the sight of his head scientist suddenly thrown from the room like trash, Rhys wasn’t scared anymore. As a matter of fact, he was _furious._ He wheeled around to glare at Jack, arms up and extended in a ‘what-the-hell?’ gesture.  
“ _Have you lost your mind!?_ ” He screamed, fighting the urge to entangle his hands in his hair.

Jack raised an eyebrow cooly, surprised by the outburst but even more surprised that Rhys had taken a step towards him. His smile faltered. “That’s rich… comin’ from you,” He hefted his thumb in the direction of the work-surface beside Rhys. “I read your file, pumpkin. Gotta admit, it made me feel a _little_ better about the whole: you-cuttin’-me-out-of-your-life thing. You missed me _that_ much, huh?”

_Clk clk clk clk…_

The chair was returning to its former position. Like a cart in a ghost-train, cranking back to the start line.

“Eat. Shit,” Rhys replied instinctively, feeling his face reddening with rage.

Now the metal arm sprang to life, its thick digits closing and then opening like a set of crab claws, testing their grip. It barely waited a beat before lunging at Rhys. He tried to dodge it, and made a damned good effort at first, but soon tripped over his own feet and fell into its vice-like clutches. The clawed hand wrapped around his neck, suffocatingly tight. It lifted him up like he weighed nothing at all and dragged him towards the chair.  
Rhys yelled at the top of his lungs, trying to fight it off, thumping the metal with his own cybernetic arm. It was useless.

All the while, Jack was pointing, laughing. Not the off-pitch laugh from before, but a real gut-busting laugh. “Aah-hahahaha!! You should-- aaah, you should see the look on your face right now. It’s-- it’s priceless, really.”

No matter how much he struggled, Rhys was pressed back into the seat. Metal restraints clamped down around his wrists and ankles automatically, imprisoning him. He was helpless, but - worst of all - he had a feeling that he’d _known_ he was going to be walking into a trap like this.  
Clenching his teeth as he wriggled fruitlessly, Rhys stared at Jack in disbelief. His gaze soon swept the room, cataloguing anything and everything he might be able to control. The speakers, the CCTV system, the lab equipment, the monitors... where did it end?  
“H-H-How are you-- nghh-- how the hell are you integrating with Atlas systems, Jack?”

The hologram before him folded his arms and shrugged his shoulders, beginning to pace back and forth slowly in front of him. “Gee... I dunno, Rhysie. Why don’t you take a trip down memory freakin’ lane with me, huh?” He extended a hand, palm-up. “Y’ remember when we were last here and I, y’know, hacked those freakin’ bots for ya? You ever stopped to consider that the company you _STOLE FROM ME_ relied just a liiiittle too much on Hyperion tech? No? God, you’re… you’re such an idiot,”

Hyperion tech. In Atlas.   
Rhys had never stopped to consider before how an AI from Hyperion could integrate with certain technology and not with others. Jack had been able to get into Rhys’ head with ease because he’d been compatible - his cybernetics and modifications had all been Hyperion. Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t realised that that extended to a large portion of his company too.  
He felt like an idiot. He felt like the world’s biggest idiot, in fact.

Tensed up and still struggling against the cuffs that held him to the chair, Rhys refused to give in so easily. “What do you _want_ ?” He asked, exasperated.  
Jack stared at him as if it were obvious. “ _Uh_? You,”

_Me._

It would have been flattering if it wasn't so fucked up. It didn't really answer the question though, did it? Did Jack want him dead? Did he want him alive? Did he want him to suffer?   
Laughter rose up within Rhys, hysterical laughter that he couldn’t repress. “I’m touched. Really,” He sassed, and he was so proud of himself that it was complete and utter bullshit. Whatever 'longing' feelings he had had for Jack felt so far away right now, as if they'd belonged to another person entirely. “Though I gotta say, Jack? This is probably the worst date I’ve ever had,”  
“Oh, don’t get _cocky_ , sweetheart. It doesn’t suit you,”  

Rhys shook his head again, setting his jaw. He was amazed at himself. No, _enraged_ with himself.  
All of a sudden he recalled all those lonely evenings thinking just how badly he wanted to talk to Jack - just to hear him laugh again, to hear him crack a joke, to hear one of his ridiculous pet names for him.

He remembered that one drunken night where he'd vomited up a storm and cried into the early hours of the morning. The night Fiona had sat beside him like an immovable rock, knowing that he wasn't crying because he was drunk, knowing better than that because she had found the room with the posters, the paraphernalia that he had rescued from the wreckage of his office, the old advertisements from behind dumpsters, from billboards frying in the sun. She had remembered making a crack about "BFFs and murderous monsters" and remembered how Rhys' eyes had glazed over, how he'd turned his back, how he'd changed the subject, and she realised, that night, what those longing looks into the distance meant. She knew then what his tears were for. She had told him all this when she thought he'd been too-far-gone to remember, but he did. He remembered because she'd been right.

“You know, it’s funny,” Rhys began bitterly, tipping his head on one side. “Part of me really... really  _did_ miss you. I guess the joke’s on me, huh?”  
He half-expected Jack to laugh, or to react like a child throwing a tantrum. Instead his one-time tormenter seemed to brighten up, his grin sharpening into one that was hungry and sadistic. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up too much about it, pumpkin. Let _me_ do that for you,”

And with that, the metal gripping tool swung around at speed, slapping Rhys so hard across the face that he could taste blood in his mouth on impact. His head swung back, the blow ringing in his ears, the shock reverberating through his brain.  
At first Rhys couldn’t hear anything. There was only a buzzing sound, followed by Jack’s laughter and the loud whirring of the security cameras as they zoomed in on Rhys’ face.  
Wheezing for air, Rhys found himself staring at them and wondering with horror: _Is he-- Is he recording this?_  

Jack whistled appraisingly, approaching the chair. He got close in a way no physical being could, standing with Rhys’ knee part-way through his crotch and the armrest punching through his hip. “You got a thick skull, kiddo…” He hummed, squinting at him up-close. He reached out as if he forgot he couldn’t touch him, as if to ruffle his hair, and when his hand went sailing through Rhys’ head his eyebrows furrowed low. “Heh…” Withdrawing his hand as if he’d been bitten, Jack took a step back. “Wonder how many more blows it’d take before it cracks like an egg…?” He mused aloud, and then the arm back-handed him again, throwing Rhys’ head back in the opposite direction.

“Oof--!” Rhys’ cheek split open, a dark bruise already beginning to form beneath his left eye. By now the taste of copper was thick on his tongue, enough to make him gag. He made a hacking sound low in his throat before spitting a wad of blood and spit onto the tiled floor.

The lab was in motion around him. Practically resting his head fully on his shoulder, Rhys let out a bitter chuckle. “‘f-- If I didn’t know any better I’d-- I’d say you were getting off on this, Jack...” He teased, under the pretext that he wouldn’t give in to him, that he was holding his ground. He wasn’t _flirting._ Jack had just killed his Head of Robotics and was in the process of beating the shit out of him. Why would he be _flirting_ ? It was a defense mechanism, that was all. A way to make Jack second-guess himself.

Jack smiled at him, however, as if it _was_ flirtatious.  
“Yeah? You think so?” He jeered, hands on his hips. He disappeared then, leaving a trail of blue pixels in his wake, only to reappear a second later beside him, practically cheek-to-cheek. Rhys had to turn his head to look at him, to see the cruel grin knifing across Jack’s face.  
“And why d’ya think that is, Rhysie?” He was pretending to rest his hands on Rhys’ shoulders, though it was for visual effect only. It was just the same as it had been up in his office on Helios - Jack could seem to be physically close but his voice would come from a distant speaker, so the intimacy didn’t feel _real_ and not nearly satisfying enough. Close, but no cigar.

Rhys shuddered, trying not to think about that. Instead he tried to focus on his anger, his bitterness, and all his newfound feelings of betrayal. It became easier when Jack opened his mouth to speak again. “Because vengeance is fucking _sweet_ , kiddo, and karma is one big ol’ bitch. You trapped me in a freakin’ void, you took Atlas from me, you took _Helios_ from me, but you know what the worst part is? You took my faith in ya. You just-- dumped all over it,”

 **_Your_ ** _faith in_ **_me_** _?!_

Rhys began gritting his teeth, struggling against the clamps that held him down once more. “Oh, give me a _break_! You never gave a _shit_ about me,” He cried out suddenly, so full of intense and passionate rage. If the cuts and bruises forming on his face weren’t proof of that then he didn’t know what was.  
Jack switched again from his position at his side to directly in front of him. He was stooped so they were eye-to-eye, looking at him as if for the first time, as if he took pity on him. Then he grinned, flashing a row of his too-white teeth. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, cupcake,” 

Behind him, the laser arm began moving of its own accord. It seemed anthropomorphic for a moment, looking down at the kidney-shaped tool shelf beneath it before bowing its ‘head’. It punched down with pinpoint precision and selected a new accessory from the myriad of options available. When it straightened back up to full height, Rhys saw that it had selected a jack. A jack that looked as if it would fit into his port like a puzzle-piece.  
His eyes bugged, hands curling into frightened fists. “W-W-Wait. Jack? What are-- What are you doing?” 

The arm reached towards him, extending telescopically. Jack stared at it smugly as it went. “After allllll we’ve been through, sweetheart, you don’t want me in your head anymore? I thought that was the _point_ of this lil operation o’ yours,”

 _O-Oh God, he’s trying to get back in… He’s-- He's trying to get back in my head!  
_ Rhys kicked so hard with his legs that the metal clamps took the first layer of skin off of his ankles. He shrieked, trying to move his head, trying to make it more difficult for the jack to find its target. “N-N-No, wait--!! Not-- Not like this, Jack, don’t--!!”

The metal tip punched home, plugging into the port at his temple.  
An electric shock coursed through Rhys’ body as Jack filtered his way inside. He felt it as surely as if he’d just been injected with a drug, heat pumping through his veins. He spasmed fitfully as he tried to fight it, but Jack’s voice was in his head now. So, so close, just as it should have been. Just as he _wanted_ it to be.  
 _You’re resistin’ me, kiddo, but I_ **_know_ ** _you want this… It’s on paper. It’s in every single little corner of your mind back here…_

Rhys closed his eyes, desperately trying not to whimper. He felt Jack filling him up inside like a toxic vapour settling into his lungs, or a dye that was spreading too quick throughout him - a droplet of blue ink in a glass of water.  
He didn’t know just how much of his thoughts or memories were exposed to Jack’s prying eyes. He imagined he could lock them away as if in a virtual safe, putting all his will behind keeping back anything Jack might use to his advantage. It seemed to work because Jack let out a sound of disapproval, and shocked him hard again. This time he spoke out loud. “We’re a _team_ here, kiddo. How ‘m I supposed to trust you again if you just start hidin’ things from your ol’ pal, Jack, huh?”

The restraint around Rhys’ right wrist released, but this came as no relief. Why? Because there was no feeling in that arm whatsoever. His cybernetic limb flexed once, twice, then shot straight to his throat.  
“I wonder if I can choke y’ hard enough to give you a rodney?” Jack wondered out loud, pressing Rhys’ thumb hard into the side of his throat, clamping his own fingers around his neck tightly. “I bet you’re into that kinky shit, aren’t you, pumpkin? You like a bit o’ strangulation, am I right? Bet you retired that bad tie of yours to the bedroom? Huh?”

“You’re--” The hand around Rhys’ throat tightened. “Kkkhhh-- Y-You’re _sick_ ,”

“Says the guy with a hard-on,” Jack grinned, and then Rhys realised two things. Firstly, that he was right, his erection was straining almost painfully against the seam of his pants, and secondly, that Jack was in two places at once. He was inside of him as if he was taking full-control, and yet he was also still crouched in front of him. His hand was around his own throat, eyes glittering darkly.  
“Bet’cha been _dreamin’_ about this, Rhysie. Creamin’ your pants thinkin’ about all the things I’d do to you the minute I got my hands on ya. I tell y’what-- _I’d bet Hyperion on it_.”  

Rhys wished to god he didn’t have a raging hard-on right now. He wished his words packed so much venom and hatred that Jack could actually believe them. Dots swimming in his vision, it took all of his might to speak around the constriction around his throat. “Nng-- f-fuck you, Jack,”

Both the hologram in front of him and the voice in his mind chuckled at the same time. “See, you can’t fool me, princess.” He said, looking at him with a strange kind of tenderness that was both terrifying and arousing at once.  
_'You know why? 'Cause I’m in your **head**_ _.'_

Rhys’ right-hand released from his throat, giving him a much-needed breather. He loudly sucked in air, chest heaving, a thin trail of blood seeping from the inside of his ear.

He wasn’t given much warning before his possessed hand began to wander downwards. It began to work at the buttons of his shirt, unfastening them one by one, and Rhys’ eyes widened as he watched himself be stripped by a hand he had no control of. There was a sharp tug as Jack untucked his shirt from his trousers, before he focused on unbuckling his belt.

“Ja-ack…” Rhys moaned in humiliation.  
His traitorous hand palmed his crotch, and he watched as Jack mirrored him, doing the exact same thing to himself. It was only moments before he’d unzipped his pants and freed his erection.

“ _Now_ who’s gettin’ off on this?” Jack hummed with satisfaction, closing Rhys’ hand around the base of his cock. He began stroking him, Rhys feeling the motion as if it were not from his own palm but from someone else’s - as if it were Jack’s hand upon him- and closed his eyes, sinking into the feeling.  
He groaned.  
His face was swelling and purpling, and it was crazy how much it hurt in places. The open wound on his cheek was seeping with blood and his bottom lip felt about ready to burst, but his cock felt so _good_ , and Jack was here and wasn’t that all he had wanted?

Rhys began bucking his hips, thrusting into his own hand. The feeling was so amazing, and just what he had been longing for, that he temporarily forgot his anger, his fear, and all the reasons why this was so wrong. At least, until the image of Harrison’s distorted face came to mind, and the question 'WHERE’S RHYS' eternally seared into his flesh like a brand. Then? Then he screamed himself back to his senses.

A thunderous look passed across Jack’s face. The metal pin in Rhys’ temple began to stab, thrusting in and out as if crudely fucking his port. The robo-arm was back, and swung like a wrecking ball to punch him in the gut - punched right through Jack’s hologram - before cutting upwards and thumping Rhys’ chin so hard that he almost bit through his tongue. With each blow, the hand at his shaft stilled, until Rhys was whimpering and bucking his hips for it to continue. 

“You bleed so nicely, Rhys... “ Jack told him, soothing as if praising him. “An’ you bruise so good too. Look at ya. You’re like a freakin’ work of art…”

“Haa…” The two fingers and thumb of the metal work-arm pinched Rhys' face, hard enough that fresh blood oozed from his cheek and his lip finally split open.

“Gotta get me back in the flesh, baby...” Jack was saying, and he was jerking Rhys off again now, hand pumping fast, applying just the right amount of rough pressure. Rhys’ vision dipped in and out, but he imagined he saw Jack’s fist ghosting his own cock, as if he wasn’t just directing the motions of Rhys’ arm but getting himself off too. Was that even possible? Could an AI even gratify itself? It didn’t matter, it only served to make Rhys moan louder.  
“Get me back so I can beat the living daylights outta you with my own two freakin' hands. Lemme touch you, Rhysie. I wanna break you into little fuckin’ pieces. I wanna see you bruise all the colours of the freakin’ rainbow…  Then I’ll kiss it better, baby. I friggin’ swear, I’ll fuck you just the way you want it...” Jack was groaning, speaking at such speed that Rhys wasn’t sure he’d meant to say half the things he said. But he’d heard them, he’d heard them and they were enough to make him spill over the edge.

Jack could have told him he wanted him dead right that moment and he'd have thanked him for it. 

Imagining all the things they could do together, all that they  _would_ do together, and listening to Jack grunt filth as he got them both off, Rhys threw back his head and whined. 

“ _Ye-e-es…_!”

When he came, he came so hard that he passed out.

* * *

 

Jade returned to R&D the next morning, and Lab 08 was working perfectly. She regretted to hear that Harrison had resigned as a result of the night’s drama, but she wasn’t entirely surprised. The man had been close to retirement, and he had no known family to support; the money - at this stage - was superfluous. If he wasn’t enjoying his work and he wasn’t delivering on his commitments then it was time to move onto pastures new.

She thought about asking Rhys about his injuries. He had a particularly nasty-looking black eye and a cut that required stitches, but she had heard it on the grapevine that he was a bit of a klutz with a penchant for head injuries. If he’d sustained some damage while battling the lab’s sporadic equipment then it only served to make him seem more heroic in her eyes.

Besides... who was she to burst his bubble and bring him down? He seemed in such a _good mood_. 


End file.
